


Scars

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 15:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4630317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every scar tells a story.  Written for KinkMFU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

The Russian was clothed in nothing but a thin sheen of perspiration and his chest heaved with an attempt to recover from his climax.  Beside him, Napoleon Solo was equally attired and engaged.

“I thought… we’d agreed… on détente,” Solo managed to get out after a few moments.

“What do you mean?”  Illya’s voice was rough around the edges, making his accent even more pronounced.

“A few weeks back. You said you wouldn’t kill me if I didn’t kill you. Remember?”

“ _Da_ , I remember.”

Solo took a few deep breaths and stared at the ceiling.  “That climax nearly did me in. Talk about a ride.”

“You should know that some broncos cannot be busted, Cowboy, no matter how hard you hold on.”

Napoleon laughed at that and after a beat, Illya joined in.  “You have a nice laugh.”

“You have a nice…” Illya’s eye trailed down the man’s body and he smiled again as his eyes closed.  “… Laugh, as well.

“Thanks.”  He watched as Illya reached for his father’s watch.  He dropped it on his stomach and sighed. “How are we doing on time?”

“Providing that New York traffic is as horrible as is rumored, we have almost ninety minutes.”

“Do you think Waverly would even miss us if we didn’t show up?”

“No, but Gabby will.  She was not happy that we left her behind last night.” The affection in the Russian’s voice was apparent, although they still hadn’t quite made it to couple status yet.

Napoleon propped himself up on his elbows.  “Well, I have nothing against a well-orchestrated __ménage__ ** _à_** _ _trois__ _,_ but, selfishly, last night I wanted you all to myself.”

There was a flash of something in Illya’s eyes. He was very protective of their fellow agent. “And?” The watch was returned to the nightstand.

“Gabby’s wrath is small price to pay for the services rendered.”  Then he noticed something that had previously intrigued him. He reached out to touch the scar by Illya’s right eye.  “What happened here, Peril?”

Illya’s voice grew hard.  “Suffice it say that you are not the only one to chafe on a leash, Cowboy. Some of my lessons I learned the hard way.” A tinge of red started to creep into his vision, the anger and humiliation of watching his father dragged away like garbage. He could still feel the sharp taste of his blood as it ran down his face, half blinding him and heard the laughter of the soldiers, taunting him and his weakness. A soft kiss brought him back and he looked at Solo for a moment as if he’d never seen the man before in his life.

“Breathe, Illya. It was a very hard. I should think. It looks like a bottle.”

“I was twelve, but I never forgot them.”

“Or forgave them.”

Illya shook his head, partially in answer, partially to dislodge the last bits of the memory, sending it back into hiding with the others. His fingers found a scar of their own on the soft skin of Solo’s stomach. He traced it with his fingernail “How did you acquire this?”

“Made it through the war without a scratch and got this my first night home.”

“A knife?” Illya reversed the path of his finger, smiling at the results as the skin erupted in goosebumps.

“A lamp. I surprised a friend of mine. I would have bled to death if she hadn’t called for an ambulance.”

“Rookie,” Illya scoffed as his fingers began to travel downward, ruffling still sweat-damp hair. “The female is always the more deadly of the species.”

“I don’t know about that. You’re pretty deadly in your own right. Haven’t you had enough, Peril?

“Have you?” The question was half whispered

“I asked you first. Besides, we need to take a shower and get ready for work.”

“Good idea.” Illya was up, in more ways than one. “We can save time by showering together.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s going to save us a ton of time. Showers can be dangerous places. We could slip and fall.”

“I already have.” He took a beat to see if Napoleon had caught his innuendo. “I have plenty of room for new scars.” He offered his hand and a smirk. “Come on, Cowboy, Let’s see how you do bareback.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
